


hesitation bleaches the bones of countless millions

by Buttercup_ghost



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: (Brief tho), Ableism, Accidental antagonization of mike, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Josh Survives, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Dysphoria, Horror, I am so afraid of judgement about this, I don't know what else to tag, I feel so guilty almost about writing this but you know what fuck it I do what I want, I never thought I'd ever write a oc/self insert/reader/whatever the fuck fic but here we are, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Josh Lives, Mental Health Issues, Misgendering, Non-binary character, Other, Paranoia, Past Child Abuse, Please don't judge me I'm gay ok, Psychological Horror, Schizophrenia, Semi purposeful antagonization of Ashley, Sexual Humor, She just kinda reminds me of myself and I hate myself imao, Suicidal Thoughts, Survival Horror, Transphobia, fuck that guy, gay jokes bc I am gay, purposeful antagonization of dr hill, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 18:26:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: "All that is and has been is but the twilight of the dawn."- H. G. WellsTime moved so slowly when you waited for it to vanish.(You just wanted his pains to vanish)





	hesitation bleaches the bones of countless millions

**Author's Note:**

> I am honestly unreasonably afraid of posting this. Like I don't know why I value people's judgement of me like I shouldn't care if I wanna write a fic I should be able to without breaking down bc of fear of being judged like. Like I'm not hurting anyone and I shouldn't be scared but like you live your life in fear of disappointing people and like anything can make people snap at you and yell like you have to walk on eggshells in this fucking house and I'm just. Probably fucked up from it. But now isn't the time for introspection and venting and I'm probably being annoying dhdhhsos. 
> 
> Anyways I love my boy?? So much??? Holy fuck I'm gay yall????
> 
> Also don't fuck with ghosts yall

You met him when he walked out of his office, a unidentifiable expression on his face. He's dr hills patient as well, and you feel a pang of sympathy for him, but you don't move to do anything, only waiting with dead eyes for hill to call out your own name, ushering you into your own appointment.

You see him more and more, or maybe you just notice him. Your appointments line up, you're right after his, and you're curious. You don't say anything to him, though, nervousness and fear routing you in place. It's better not to get close to him. It's better not to get close to anyone.

(They all abandon you in the end, even when you scream and cry, _don't leave me, don't leave me._ )

  
You don't plan on hearing him through the bathroom walls, laughing, crying, apologizing; hysteria. You're conflicted, but decide that letting someone break down in front of you without comforting them isn't something you can do. When he comes out of the bathroom, shaking, shaking, you go up and talk to him, albeit awkwardly.

(Somehow, you start dating.)

  
“I'm not a girl.” You say, conviction in your voice. “You're confused,” Doctor hill replies, “delusional.”

(“I'm not a girl.” You say, and josh believes you.)

  
Doctor hill says that your relationship with josh is happening to fast, that he's playing into your delusions. You say fuck him.

(Josh says “No, babe, fuck me.” and your foul mood dissipates as you laugh, then you maybe do something a bit more.)

  
He tells you if Hannah and Beth, one night. It's late, and you're curled around each other, snuggling. “They haunt me, you know.” He says, and you nod, “I see them, sometimes.”

Hill brushes him off. Grieving, he says, despite the record of him reporting the very same symptoms before; kids have active imaginations, they say.

(You look up schizophrenia and josh fits all the criteria. He's only being treated for depression.)

 

 

“Josh?” You ask, biting your lips, “do you really think it's a good idea for you to go there?”

(You're worried about him.)

  
You insist you go with him. It's only been a year since they disappeared, and you're afraid that he too will vanish, whatever it is that dragged his sisters under coming back to take him. It's probably your paranoia, but you won't, can't, let him go by himself, can't let him face the mountain that destroyed his family alone. You wonder if it's some sort of self destruction, going back there, but he seems to think he need to do this to move on. You don't know if it's true.

(Your veins hum with anxiety, and you click open your pocket knife rhythmically. The first aid kit in your bag helps some of your concerns, but it's not enough. It's never enough.)

 

  
Josh holds your hand, to comfort you. Sometimes in the edge of your vision, you see him frown, though, a look of worry on his face as he stares at you intently. You don't mind his eyes, and his worry make you feel special, loved, if not a bit on edge yourself. You can't shake the feeling that something is off, though.

(You feel like you're being watched by something. You're not sure if it's your paranoia. Was that a scream? No, no, your imagination. Right?)

 

When you met Josh's friends you can already tell you don't like them. The only ones who don't grind on your nerves are Chris and Sam, though you might have a bias, since you've heard josh talk about them, and even seen them in passing, some. The rest put you on edge, unfamiliar, possibly untrustworthy. You don't know them, they could hurt you or josh.

(It's the paranoia talking, a part of you whispers, but you don't listen. It's always good to be cautious.)

  
“Whoa, and I thought you were lying about dating. What a babe.” You over hear, Josh's nervous little laughter bringing you closer. “Yeah. They're great.” He replies to what you can now see is mike. “So, like, how did you two meet? She's, like, way to hot for you dude.” Josh stiffens, and so do you, hand going on your hair subconsciously, pulling. “ _They_ ,” he corrects, “they and I met at a doctor's appointment. Nothing special or romantic, to be honest, but still, it was.. nice.” He smiles, a bit, and the conversation fizzles out, a strange look from mike being shot to him about your pronouns.

(You don't care. Fuck them. You don't need approval from Josh's friends. It doesn't bother you. It doesn't.)

  
They call you girlfriend and you cringe. Josh tries to correct them, but you stop him. Too scared or their reactions or maybe just too exhausted to explain it. You were so tired of explaining it. Gender is a asshole, you think, always screwing you over, and fucking with your head. Chris and Sam look concerned, they knew beforehand that you weren't a girl. You ignore them, trying to smile.

(Your grin hurts. You were so tired of faking everything. Fraud.)

  
Jessica and Emily are _loud_. Bitchy, almost, you would say, but you felt like that belittled their feelings, boiled down their relationships to just _drama_. But that's what it is, isn't it? Em used to be best friends with her, until mike broke it off, and jess went keeping into his arms, or something. You honestly couldn't care less, though you _did_ feel bad for not caring. It gave you a headache.

(It reminded you of your mom and dad, screaming, screaming, your sibling sobbing. You couldn't protect them, you couldn't protect anyone, you couldn't even stop your family from slipping through your fingers, _mom, dad, stop, please stop-_ -)

  
You leave the room.

  
You're still curled up when Josh checks on you, saying that mike and jess went to another cabin, just a bit up the road. You sigh, relieved, they're stressful. You like jess enough, and you suppose that mike is ok, but to be frank they clashed with the rest of the group—mainly Emily and Matt. Why were the heteros relationships so complicated? You snort; maybe you're a heterophobe. Ugh. You've been spending too much time on tumblr.

You're almost completely relaxed again until josh mentions seances. Fuck. Nope. You _loved_ horror shit, and josh knew that, so he probably expected you to agree, but fuck. If you've learned _anything_ from the games and movies you've watched it's to never fuck with the supernatural if you can help it. Don't go provoking that shit. Don't be a dumbass.

(Seriously. It's one thing to get caught up in a situation, it's another to create one. You don't fuck with ghosts.)

 

 

You hear it, after a while of reading, calming down a bit from before.

Josh's screams.

(You move before you can think.)

 

  
Chris is with you, fear in his gaze and apprehension in his brows. You both know it's bad.

(There's a blood trail on the snow, and you can't help but feel lured.)

  
When you see it you don't scream, just stare, uncomprehending. Your fingers are pressed against the grate, pushing, trying to get it to save him, but the rust digs into your fingers and makes your teeth ache. You scream at him, _don't leave me, don't you dare fucking leave me, don't you fucking dare_ , eyes stinging, uncomfortably dry. It's as if they didn't know how to work, as if _you_ didn't, without him. The desert, hot and desolate, no water left.

  
(Josh is sawed in half in front of you.)

 

You wish you could say you felt anger, or sorrow, even the coldness in your veins that comes when your rage is cooled, but you don't. You don't feel anything. Apathy. The absence of emotions. You don't even have the decency to feel hollow.

(It's as if you're the dead one, but you're not. You wonder if you wish it was you. You decide that you do.)

 

Ash thanks Chris for saving her, for choosing her over his best friend, for letting that saw blade rip him in half, as if that was the right choice. As if there was a right choice. No, she doesn't say anything like, _I'm sorry you had to choose between us_ , but instead acts like Josh's life was the right one to sacrifice.

(You slap her in the face. _Hard_.)

 

  
He's alive. That's all you can focus on. He didn't leave you. _He didn't leave you_.

You're crying, but you think you might be happy. You should be mad, but you can be later. Right now all you can focus on is _he's_ _alive_.

He doesn't look well. He's speaking nonsense. Something about a prank, his sister's, revenge but- you don't care, not right now, because he's living. He's living. He's living.

But then mike tries to hit him and you're moving before you can stop.

(You guess bringing a pocket knife everywhere can come in handy sometimes. Nobody hurts your boy.)

 

They tie both of you up, taking the pocket knife you threatened mike with away from you. Of course, you weren't weaponless, though, a pair of scissors and a lighter. Not that they needed to know that.

“So,” they say, “why'd you do it?” Josh is incoherent, and you glare. This isn't how you handle an episode. He needs to be comforted, calmed down, not manhandled. He can't explain himself like this. Don't they know that? Damned neurotypicals. “I had nothing to do with Josh's plan,” you say, “if I knew about it I would have stopped it. It's not a healthy way for him to be coping.”

Mike scoffs, a bit, “you're still worried about what's healthy for _him?_ ” He asks, and you can almost feel your life energy draining out at his stupidity. “Of course I am,” you answer, “unlike some people, I care about my friends.” Chris flinches, but all mike does is get closer to you, crotching. “Yeah, well, when your friend happens to be a _murderer_ , you sort of lose concern for them.”

“Josh didn't kill Jessica.” You say, conviction in you, but mike just seems to get more upset, “how would you know? I saw her die, she was _right there_.” His voice cracks, and you feel a tinge of sympathy, before looking him dead in the eyes, answering his question.

“Josh says he didn't hurt her.” you with finality.

“And you believe him?” He sounds incredulous.

“Yes.”

(You trusted him full heartedly, despite how dumb that decision may or may not be. He was josh, your boy, after all.)

  
You sigh after he leaves, some yelling down at the lodge, before trying to get your lighter from your pockets, and by some miracle succeeding. The flame is hard to ignite, and you're a bit hesitant, but you ignore the feeling, the rope tying your hands making contact with the flame. It burns, heat blistering around your wrists as the flame burns away at the bindings. As soon as you can, you move your hands, putting out the fire before the burns can fully blister. It stings like hell, but you ignore it, stopping out any fire left over, before turning to josh. Your scissors take some time cut through his rope, but you don't want to risk burning him. Something is howling outside, and you pause, closing the doors, baraciding against whatever might be trying to get in before continuing your work. Better safe than sorry.

(You're sick of being sorry.)

 

  
Something is trying to get in.

(The doors don't hold)

 

Wendigos. They're wendigos. What the fuck. You've watched enough horror to know that they come to be by eating humans, the myth of them old, with Native American routes. They're wendigos. Why didn't you see this coming. You don't know what to do against fucking wendigos. What do you do against them? Do they have a weakness? How can you avoid them? All they're after is food, that's their one goal, maybe you could trick them? Can they tell themselves apart from humans? They used to be humans, so maybe not. Can you use scissors on them? Fire? Knives? Guns? Fuck. Fuck this shit.

You can't move. Your thinking to hard. Your nerves have frozen in place. Fight, flight, or freeze. Why do you always freeze?

The wendigo passes you by. Can they not see you if you're still?

(Josh is a leaning tower. You slowly move to steady him, trying to keep him still. The wendigo leaves.)

 

There's a man with Chris when they come to check on you. You don't trust him. He talks about wendigos—how long has he been here without them knowing?—talk about how Fire defeats them. You remember the spray can in josh's house, Chris used it to open the door way back out in the beginning of this, what feels centuries away now. If you end up having time you should grab it. Apparently you were right about them only seeing movement, and thank whatever is above. Probably nothing, but, whatever. Maybe you'll all make it out alive.

(And then the stranger's head rolls to the floor.)

  
You run around the lounge, quick, quick, where's that deodorant? You need it, you need it, you would have taken the flame thrower from the stranger's body, you don't care if it's gross, you had to do what you could, but the wendigos, the wendigos– they were surrounding you, you had to run.

Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. You don't want to die like this. You'd rather it be at your own hand; you'd rather you have _control_.

(Why did you never have control?)

 

Josh's friends—are they still that?—keep calling your a girl. You snap.

("I'm not a girl," you scream, but there's no time for explainations. They all look at you in confusion. You feel like a alien, foriegn, being taken apart and examined.)

 

  
You go to the mines.

(Hannah is a wendigo.)

 

You had to stand still. Still. Still. The wendigos scream in your face, your ears are ringing, but you're still. Josh is frozen, still recovering, his sister, his sister, and he isn't moving. Everyone else is out, Sam and mike saving them with a plan, but josh isn't. You need to get him out, to save him, you can't leave without him, so you scream, “Josh, _run!_ ” and he does.

(The wendigos head snap to you.)

 

You're running to the switch, heaving. Your chest is burning, a stinging little thing, phantom pains of nails, no, _claws_ , digging into your skin, grating on your rib cage. Your body is screaming at you to stop, but you don't, pushing through, the huff and puff of your lungs making you want to die. You hesitate, a little, when you get to the switch (you always hesitate, why do you always hesitate? Stupid stupid stupid _stupid_ \--) wondering if fire is the way to go, really, it releases the souls, right? A wendigo catches your head in its inhuman like hands, making you cry out, just as your hands grasp the switch.

You look at josh, just outside the door, eyes wide, and think, _fuck_ _it._

You pull the switch.

At least josh is safe.

  
(Its your last thought before flames scorches you, before the blast knocks you into the cabins walls, the force breaking your back.)

**Author's Note:**

> I would die for josh


End file.
